THE   UNIVERSITY 

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318 
ILLINOIS  HISTORICAL  SURVEY 


OF  THE 

«'0t3 


THE  PRESS. 

THE  PULPIT, 
»•>  THE  STAGE. 

A   LECTURE 

DELIVERED  AT  CENTRAL  MUSIC   HALL,   CHICAGO, 

NOVEMBER  28,  1882, 


BY  J.  H.  McVICKER. 


CHICAGO. 

THE   WESTERN    NEWS    COMPANY. 
1883. 


KN I G HT    Sc   LEONARD  . 


DEDICATION. 


To  those  who  lack  the  courage  to  repel  openly  that 
which  in  secret  they  feel  to  be  false,  and  so  continue  to 
sit  under  the  preaching  of  men  licensed  by  theology  to 
cloud  the  teaching  of  Him  they  profess  to  follow,  these 
thoughts  are  dedicated  with  the  hope  of  aiding  to  break 
the  darkness  with  which  they  surround  themselves.  Fur- 
thermore the  author  desires  to  inspire  a  manhood  which 
will  enable  them  to  see  the  light  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury brightening  as  it  approaches  the  twentieth,  and  which 
in  time  will  so  dazzle  those  who  adhere  to  the  remnants 
of  bigotry  as  to  lead  them,  against  their  own  inclining, 
to  the  truth  and  purity  of  the  new  theology  —  the  pro- 
duct of  free  thought  and  advancing  civilization. 

3 


08 


Why,    I   will  fight  with  him  upon  this  theme. 
Until  my  eyelids  will  no  longer  wag." — Hamlet, 


Christian:  "  You  did  well  to  talk  as  plainly  to  him  as  you  did; 
there  is  but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with  men  now-a-days, 
and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  so  in  the  nostrils  of  many,  as  it 
doth;  for  they  are  these  talkative  fools  whose  religion  is  only  in 
words,  and  are  debauched  and  vain  in  their  conversation,  that 
being  so  much  admitted  into  the  fellowship  of  the  godly)  do  puz- 
zle the  world,  blemish  Christianity,  and  grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish 
that  all  men  would  deal  with  such,  as  you  have  done;  then  should 
they  either  be  made  more  conformable  to  religion,  or  the  com- 
pany of  saints  would  be  too  hot  for  them." 

Faithful:  "  How  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes! 
How  bravely  doth  he  speak!  How  he  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him!  "     But  so  soon 
As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 
That's  past  the  full,  into  the  wave  he  goes, 
And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart-work  knows 

— John  Bunyan — Pilgrim's  Progress. 


THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT,  AND 
THE  STAGE. 


n^HE  faculty  which  enables  us  to  discrimi- 
nate is  rarely  cultivated  to  any  great 
extent,  even  by  those  who  set  themselves  up 
as  teachers  or  leaders  in  the  affairs  of  every- 
day life.  In  modern  civilization  the  press, 
the  pulpit,  and  the  stage  are  three  great 
powers  for  good  and  evil,  and  while  I  may 
think  it  time  for  the  stage  to  assume  a  posi- 
tion and  talk  back,  I  am  not  here  to  apologize 
for  it ;  nor  am  I  here  simply  to  censure  the 
pulpit  and  condemn  the  press.  These  two 
forces  set  up  an  ideal  of  perfection,  and  each 
thinks  itself  infallible.  The  editorial  "we"  is 
launched  like  the  thunder  of  Jove  ;  the  utter- 


IO          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 


ances  of  the  sanctuary  are  the  manna  from 
heaven.  Both  preacher  and  editor  assume  to 
be  a  little  better  than  the  rest  of  mankind, 
and  both  exact  from  all  poor  humanity  per- 
fection equal  to  their  inspired  holiness.  That 
isn't  fair.  All  of  us  cannot  be  editors  and 
preachers ;  some  of  us  wouldn't  be  if  we 
could. 

The  stage,  like  the  press  and  the  pulpit,  has 
its  shortcomings,  but  is  not  so  pretentious  as 
its  fellows  ;  hence  its  sins  are  not  so  heinous. 
While  preachers  and  editors  are  set  up  as 
models,  the  world  is  taught  to  look  upon  the 
actor  merely  as  a  rollicking,  good-natured,  but 
worthless  fellow.  The  press  and  the  pulpit 
assume  to  instruct  and  to  guide  ;  the  stage 
seeks  to  amuse.  When  the  press  is  wrong 
and  the  pulpit  intolerant  —  and  you  know 
such  things  sometimes  happen  —  it  is  felt  that 
a  great  injury  has  been  done.  When  the 


AND   THE  STAGE.  II 


stage  offends,  the  offense  is  of  the  same 
nature  as  the  exuberance  of  a  spoiled  child 
that  oversteps  the  bounds  of  decorum  in  play- 
ing with  the  senior  who  has  humored  it. 
The  offense  is  reprimanded  but  forgiven,  and 
the  play  goes  on  in  a  more  subdued  tone. 
But  when  we  read  a  vicious  article  in  a  lead- 
ing newspaper  or  listen  to  an  uncharitable  or 
bigoted  sermon  from  a  leading  pulpit,  we 
feel  that  the  offense  "smells  rank  to  heaven." 
A  high  trust  has  been  betrayed.  The 
instructors  have  misused  their  power  to  vitiate 
public  opinion,  degrade  public  morals  or 
instill  false  principles  into  the  public  mind. 
Hence  I  need  not  apologize  for  the  mistakes 
of  the  stage.  I  cannot  apologize  for  the  more 
deliberate,  enduring  and  far-reaching  errors 
of  the  press  and  the  pulpit. 

In   one   respect,    the   pulpit,   the   press   and 
the     stage     stand     uoon     a    level, —  that     of 


12  THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

reciprocal  distrust.  The  pulpit  is  constantly 
inveighing  against  the  press  and  the  stage  ; 
the  press  is  constantly  crying  out  against  the 
stage  and  pulpit;  and  the  stage  cannot  help 
feeling  that  the  pulpit  and  the  press  are  not 
always  the  pure,  truthful  and  righteous  things 
they  would  have  the  people  believe  them  to 
be.  To  the  pulpit  the  stage  is  a  perennial 
offense  ;  to  the  stage  the  pulpit  is  a  type  of 
intolerance.  To  the  press  both  the  others 
are  merely  material  for  daily  criticism,  and  to 
both  the  others  the  press  is  dogmatic,  inquisi- 
torial and  pampered.  The  public,  I  think, 
though  it  may  never  entirely  agree  with  any 
one  of  these  agencies  on  extraneous  subjects, 
is  ever  ready  to  think  each  is  about  right 
when  speaking  of  the  others.  When  the 
stage  is  hard  pressed  for  material,  it  falls 
back  on  something  of  a  local  or  sensational 
kind  ;  so,  when  a  decline  is  noted  in  church 


AND   THE  STAGE.  13 


attendance,  and  the  deacon  returns,  after  col- 
lection, with  empty  plates,  the  preacher 
pitches  into  the  stage  —  the  standing  sensa- 
tion of  the  pulpit.  Many  a  preacher  has 
made  himself  known  to  the  community 
through  a  philippic  against  theater-going, 
who  might  otherwise  have  remained  in  ob- 
scurity all  his  life  long.  The  stage  is  of  more 
value  to  these  notoriety-seeking  ministers  than 
the  old  orthodox  hell, —  for  the  devil  and  his 
pitchfork  have  come  to  be  regarded,  even  in 
the  church,  as  mythical, —  but  the  theater,  and 
its  viciousness  are  real,  terribly  real,  to  the 
poor  trembling  soul  that  fears  it  cannot 
mourn  sufficiently  in  this  life  to  claim  eternal 
happiness  in  the  life  to  come.  Then  the 
theater  is  so  popular  that  the  preacher  is 
sure,  that  in  addition  to  drawing  a  large  con- 
gregation, his  sermon  will  be  reported  in  the 
papers  of  the  next  day  if  he  takes  the  stage 


14  THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

as  a  topic,  and  so  he  sacrifices  his  professional 
modesty  for  the  good  of  the  flock. 

I  think  intelligent  persons,  whose  judg- 
ment has  not  been  distorted  by  prejudice, 
admit  there  is  good  and  bad  in  the  press, 
pulpit,  and  stage.  The  trouble  is  we  don't 
discriminate.  "  A  place  for  everything  and 
everything  in  its  place,"  is  a  good  rule  of  life, 
but  few  of  us  follow  it.  There  is  a  time  for  all 
things  ;  the  time  to  read  newspapers  is  at  or 
before  breakfast,  and  there  is  enough  to  most 
of  them , nowadays  to  go  round  a  large  family 
or  a  moderate  sized  boarding-house.  There 
is  a  time  to  go  to  the  theater,  in  the  evening 
when  the  work  of  the  day  is  done,  and  a  con- 
genial entertainment  is  offered  as  a  relaxa- 
tion. There  is  a  time  to  attend  church,  a 
bright  Sunday  morning,  when  new  suits  and 
new  bonnets  are  displayed  to  advantage. 
There  is  a  time  for  work  and  a  time  for  play;  a 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


time  for  mirth  and  a  time  for  reflection  ;  but 
we  don't  always  place  things  in  their  right 
order.  Discrimination  does  not  seem  to  be  a 
natural  gift.  The  average  man  is  a  victim  to 
his  environments.  He  takes  the  world  as  it 
comes,  and  drifts  along  in  the  channel  in 
which  he  is  started.  The  good  frequently 
passes  for  the  bad,  and  the  bad  often  for  the 
good.  The  sugar-coated  pill  is  taken  willingly 
regardless  of  the  medicine  it  contains.  The 
proof-sheet  of  life  is  rarely  read,  and,  if  read, 
we  are  too  busy  to  correct  the  errors  when 
they  are  clearly  marked.  Life  is  too  short, 
and  the  gilded  god  of  our  day  shines  so 
bright,  that  man  in  his  haste  to  grasp  the  one 
makes  but  little  effort  to  lengthen  or  broaden 
the  other.  We  are  a  hive  of  busy  bees,  but 
we  lack  the  wisdom  of  the  bee,  for,  from  life, 
we  do  not  extract  the  sweet  and  avoid  the 
bitter. 


1 6  THE  PRESS,  Tin-:  rrr.rrT, 

The  trinity  of  modern  civilization  —  the 
press,  the  pulpit,  and  the  stage  —  should 
work  in  common  for  the  irood  of  the  human 

£j 

race,  but  they  pull  apart  with  selfish  motives. 
I  will  venture  to  urge  some  personal  claim 
upon  your  attention  in  speaking  of  these  three 
great  engines  of  power,  and  in  deprecating 
the  lack  of  discrimination  which  clogs  their 
wheels.  I  have  earned  some  right  to  talk  of 
newspapers,  for  I  carried  them  when  I  was  a 
boy,  and  later  learned  to  set  them  up  in  type 
and  take  them  from  the  press.  I  have  been 
identified  with  the  stage  for  more  years  than 
it  is  necessary  to  tell  (though  some  good- 
natured  critic  might  say  I  was  never  much  of 
an  actor);  and  this  evening  behold  I  turn 
preacher.  If  in  this  last  position  I  am  ven- 
turing on  consecrated  ground,  I  will  aim  to 
injure  none  of  the  flowers  that  grow  thereon, 
believing  I  shall  find  weeds  enough  to  stand 


AND   THE  STAGE.  \J 

upon  while  passing  in  review  the  press,  the 
pulpit  and  the  stage,  to  see  if  each  occupies 
its  proper  place,  and  is  in  such  condition  as 
good  discipline  warrants. 

King  Lear,  when  dividing  his  kingdom 
among  his  three  daughters,  called  upon  the 
oldest  to  speak  first  and  urge  her  claim  for 
his  consideration.  So  let  us  summon  the  first 
born  of  our  trinity — that  is,  the  stage.  Does 
the  announcement  surprise  some  of  you  ?  I 
state  simply  a  historical  fact.  The  modern 
drama  of  every  country  and  every  language 
traces  its  origin  to  the  ancients  through  the 
church,  which  only  began  to  condemn  when 
it  could  no  longer  control  the  stage.  The 
festival  of  the  gods  among  the  Hindoos  was 
celebrated  by  a  union  of  song  and  dance.  It 
was  the  Hindoo  drama.  The  tenets  of  Buddh- 
ism are  said  to  be  traceable  all  through  the 
dramatic  literature  of  China,  and  the  Chinese 


I  8  THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

call  their  plays  "the  pleasures  of  peace  and 
prosperity."  The  Egyptians  celebrated  the 
doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  in 
mysterious  ceremonies  and  recitations  of  a 
dramatic  character.  The  Greek  drama  was 
intimately  connected  with  the  national  relig- 
ion of  that  people.  The  first  introduction  of 
dramatic  exhibition  into  Rome  (several  cen- 
turies before  the  Christian  era)  was  when  the 
Greek  actors  were  sent  for  to  appease  divine 
wrath  which  was  signalized  by  a  pestilence. 
Wasn't  that  as  harmless  as  Noah's  getting 
drunk  and  dancing  on  Mount  Ararat  to  cele- 
brate the  subsidence  of  the  flood  ?  And  was 
it  not  more  natural  and  humane  than  for 
Abraham  to  offer  his  own  son  on  the  altar  to 
appease  an  exacting  creature  of  his  supersti- 
tion ?  If  the  religions  with  which  the  ancient 

o 

drama  was  intertwined  were  Pagan,  they  were 
still  the  best  known  to  the  various  tribes,  and 


AND   THE  STACK.  1 9 

they  were  less  intolerant  and  more  charitable 
than  some  of  the  religions  of  our  day.  The 
Christian  Church  adopted  the  drama  for  its 
own,  and  during  many  centuries  it  enjoyed 
an  exclusive,  and,  long  after,  a  preponderating 
influence  over  the  stage.  In  England,  France, 
and  Germany,  the  so-called  "Miracles"  and 
"Moralities"  were  the  staple  plays  of  the  day, 
based  upon  Bible  stories.  To  this  day  the 
Ober-Ammergau  sacred  drama  in  Germany 
and  the  popular  religious  performances  in 
Spain  attest  the  long  time  connection  between 
the  church  and  the  stage.  The  early  fathers 
were  short-sighted  in  permitting  so  effective  an 
agent  as  the  drama  to  drift  away  from  them. 
But  has  the  stage  degenerated  by  reason  of 
cutting  loose  from  the  church?  No  !  It  has 
been  emancipated,  like  governments  and  in- 
dividuals, from  the  shackles  of  ignorance  and 
the  despotism  of  superstition.  The  church 


2O          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

no  longer  dictates  the  policy  of  nations  ;  the 
priests  no  longer  control  the  powers  nor  dull 
the  pleasures  of  the  stage,  and  the  world  is 
freer,  happier,  and  no  less  pure  for  the 
change. 

In  the  stage,  then,  we  have  the  eldest  of  the 
great  triumvirate  I  have  dared  to  summon 
before  you  this  evening.  It  passes  by,  bear- 
ing its  heavy  load  of  abuse  and  contumely, 
heaped  upon  it  by  the  second  born  of  the 
group;  its  sins  of.  commission  and  omission 
magnified  to  such  an  extent  that  the  unthink- 
ing man  looks  on  in  wonder,  and  is  disposed  to 
reject  the  philosophic  doctrine  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest.  We  hear  an  occasional  voice, 
prompted  partly  by  hate  and  partly  by  fear,  cry 
out :  "  Shall  it  not  be  banished  from  the  face  of 
the  earth  ?  "  That  voice  has  been  ringing  along 
the  corridor  of  ages — but  the  stage  still  lives. 
Why?  The  legend  across  the  proscenium,  illu- 


AND   THE  STAGE.  21 

mined  in  bright  and  sparkling  letters  of  gold, 
reads:  "  That  which  God  has  implanted  in  man 
cannot  die."  The  drama  is  the  highest  devel- 
opment of  the  love  of  spectacle  which  is  born  in 
the  human  breast.  There  is  no  other  gratifi- 
cation of  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing 
which  satisfies  so  completely;  none  which 
reaches  the  human  emotions  and  sympathies 
so  quickly;  none  which  illustrates  so  vividly 
the  story  of  human  life.  Thus  we  see  our 
first-born  creeping  along  through  neglect  and 
discouragement,  but  always  strengthening  its 
hold  upon  the  heart  of  man.  We  see  it  with 
abashed  countenance  and  timid  tread  slowly 
but  surely  advancing;  its  adherents  doubting 
its  power  and  lacking  the  courage  to  claim  for 
it  a  proper  place  in  civilization  and  social  life. 
We  see  its  open  hand  of  charity  for  all  but  its 
own,  and  note  its  progress,  made  in  a  spirit  of 
true  Christianity, —  no  element  of  hate  or  com- 


22          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

bativeness  in  its  nature.  As  if  inspired,  it 
responds  to  the  voice  of  malice:  "  Our  oppo- 
nents cannot  kill  us  ;  we  can  afford  to  suffer 
and  progress." 

Hold  this  picture  of  the  first-born,  for  here 
comes  the  second  person  of  our  trinity — the 
church — which  has  professed  ever  since  its 
birth  to  hold  in  its  hand  all  the  good  there  is 
in  man  on  this  earth,  and  to  control  his  desti- 
nies in  the  life  to  come.  It  now  walks  by  us 
with  a  limping  step;  but  looking  back  we  see 
abundant  evidence  of  its  wonderful  power. 
We  see  the  heart  of  man  yielding  to  its  care, 
for  its  spirit  had  called  forth  his  love.  We 
see  him  blindly  following  those  who  arrogantly 
assumed  to  lead,  disregarding  that  spirit,  and 
then  we  see  the  bloody  wars  forced  upon  man, 
and  the  dire  consequences  reaching  along  the 
line  of  centuries.  We  see  devastated  cities  and 
hecatombs  of  victims  sacrificed  to  selfishness, 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


arrogance  and  greed.  We  can  hear  the  shrieks 
of  those  who  have  been  put  to  the  rack,  the 
thumb-screw  and  the  stake.  We  see  the  light 
of  flames  —  kindled  by  the  torches  of  the 
church  —  alone  illume  the  dark  ages.  We  see 
that  with  it  "Might  is  Right.'  It  tortured,  it 
sacked,  it  burned  ;  and  all  for  the  glory  of 
Zion.  The  readers  of  history  need  not  be 
told  that  the  cruelties  of  the  church  extended 
far  this  side  the  Reformation.  They  have 
come  down  to  our  own  time,  but  in  a  wonder- 
fully modified  form,  being  compelled  to  yield 
to  a  superior  civilization  which  other  forces 
have  established  ;  and  hence  the  church  no 
longer  avails  itself  of  implements  of  torture  — 
the  only  implements  ever  invented  under  its 
patronage.  We  see  it  now  as  it  goes  halting  by, 
staggering  under  a  load  of  accumulated  ex- 
cesses heavier  than  the  cross  which  its  Hebrew 
ante-type  imposed  upon  the  Savior.  We  see 


24          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

deserters  from  its  ranks,  who,  in  turn,  attempt 
reforms  by  rushing  into  evils  as  great  as  those 
they  left  behind.  We  see  this  second-born 
grow  weaker  as  the  world  grows  stronger,  and 
from  the  seed  it  sows  spring  faction  after  fac- 
tion, creed  after  creed,  all  aiming  to  capture  the 
heart  of  man  by  traps  and  springes,  quips  and 
quirks,  bribes  and  threats — not  by  love  and 
charity.  We  see  that  as  debility  induces  dis- 
ease, so  the  weakness  of  these  creeds  and 
factions  gives  a  sign  of  life  to  the  satisfied 
materialist  and  the  know-nothing  agnostic, 
who  are  "  as  clouds  without  water,  carried 
along  by  the  wind  ;  trees  without  fruit ;  wild 
waves  of  the  ocean  foaming  forth  their  own 
shame."  On  all  sides  we  see  disintegration 
and  contention,  and  we  hear  a  plaintive  voice 
anxiously  asking:  "  What  is  the  trouble  with 
the  church  ?"  The  trouble  is,  the  entrance  to 
it  is  too  narrow.  The  trouble  is,  it  does  not 


AND   THE  STAGE.  25 


appeal  to  the  judgment  of  man,  but  offers  him 
empty  promises  and  childish  threats.  The 
trouble  is,  it  does  not  touch  the  proper  chord 
in  the  human  heart,  or  it  would  meet  with  a 
greater  response-  While  in  all  its  diversified 
creeds  it  claims  a  monopoly  of  the  only  true 
God,  yet  it  is  an  abject  devotee  of  mammon. 
It  revels  in  the  possession  of  millions  of  idle 
capital,  free  from  taxation,  which  might  furnish 
schoolhouses,  libraries  and  art  temples.  It 
makes  no  proffer  of  good-fellowship — or,  if  it 
does,  it  is  with  icy  coldness — except  to  him 
who  has  a  long  purse.  It  clings  to  its  own 
methods,  and  offers  up  superstition  and  dogma 
as  a  pabulum  for  people  who  have  learned  to 
think  and  reason.  It  plants  itself  in  the  light 
of  progress.  It  arrays  itself  against  nature 
and  science.  It  remains  gloomy  while  the 
tendency  of  our  time  is  to  happiness.  It  has 
failed  to  keep  step  with  the  progress  of 


26          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

the  world,  and  is  fast  becoming  a  relic  of 
exploded  methods.  Why?  In  its  youth  self- 
ish, narrow-minded  zealots  seized  the  child 
and  guided  its  footsteps,  disregarding  the 
spirit  of  "good  will  to  all"  intended  by  its 
advent  upon  earth.  The  same  type  of  adher- 
ents fill  too  many  of  the  pulpits  of  to-day,  and 
true  Christianity  suffers  from  their  work. 

As  the  panorama  passes,  the  youngest  of 
our  trio  appears.  But  bear  in  mind  the  pic- 
tures of  the  two  older  to  be  referred  to  as 
our  subject  progresses.  Over  fourteen  hun- 
dred years  after  the  wise  men  were  guided 
to  Bethlehem,  we  see  a  new  power  revealed 
to  the  world,  destined  to  emancipate  man 
from  ignorance  and  superstition.  About  the 
time  of  its  birth,  the  Western  Hemisphere 
was  discovered,  as  if  a  cradle  were  necessary 
for  the  repose  and  liberty  of  the  child,  in 
which  it  might  be  rocked  till  it  grew  to  be 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


man's  greatest  hope  of  the  present  life.  You 
will  recognize  the  last-born  as  the  art  of  print- 
ing. Let  us  look  at  its  advent  on  the  Ameri- 
can continent,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
watch  its  progress.  Like  all  new  forces  it 
was  viewed  with  suspicion  in  the  land  of  its 
birth,  and  in  merry  England  the  wits  of  the 
play-house,  then  a  noted  power  with  the 
learned,  treated  it  as  an  object  of  mirth,  while 
the  church  regarded  it  as  an  offspring  of  the 
devil.  Even  in  the  land  of  Columbus,  where 
all  things  were  new,  this  newest,  strongest, 
and  mightiest  of  all  was  looked  upon  with 
doubt  and  dread.  Wise  legislatures  passed 
resolutions  condemning  it,  and  learned  judges 
cast  its  apostles  into  prisons.  But  the  babe 
had  seized  by  the  nipple  the  breast  of  human- 
ity, and,  nourished  thereby,  it  grew  and 
thrived,  till,  gaining  strength,  it  voiced  the 
great  popular  impulse  for  liberty  in  the  days 


28          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

of  our  revolution.  The  history  of  printing 
during  the  last  three  centuries  has  been  the 
progressive  history  of  man.  I  have  heard  of 
a  painting,  by  a  German  artist,  representing 
Gutenberg,  the  inventor  of  printing,  showing 
to  Faust  the  first  proof-sheet  produced  from 
type.  That  picture  should  be  engraved  and 
chromoed  to  bring  it  within  the  reach  of  peo- 
ple everywhere.  Its  story  should  be  told  in 
granite  and  bronze,  and  be  erected  in  every 
city,  that  in  our  daily  walks  we  might  behold 
the  initial  of  the  art  that  spreads  light  to 
mankind.  See  what  gigantic  .  strides  this 
youth  has  made.  The  first  newspaper  in  this 
country  was  published  less  than  two  hundred 
years  ago.  Of  course  it  was  in  Boston.  It 
was  issued  monthly,  unless  a  ship  arrived  or 
some  important  matter  occurred  more  fre- 
quently. According  to  its  prospectus,  its  pur- 
pose was  "  that  memorable  occurrences  of 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


29 


Divine  Providence  may  not  be  neglected  nor 
forgotten,  as  they  too  often  are."  It  set  forth, 
also,  that  it  "was  desirous  something  may  be 
done  toward  the  curing  of  lying  which  pre- 
vails among  us,"  from  which  it  appears  that 
our  forefathers  were  not  entirely  free  from 
one  of  the  evils  of  the  present  day  And  to 
think  that  the  press  of  America  was  started 
as  a  curative  of  lying!  Comment  is  unneces- 
sary. This  first  newspaper  was  not  a  blanket 
sheet  of  our  time  —  being  only  seven  by 
eleven  inches  in  size  and  containing  but  three 
pages  of  printed  matter,  two  columns  to  the 
page.  It  lived  but  one  day,  as  the  legislature 
then  sitting  in  Boston,  forbade  the  circulation 
of  "anything  in  print  without  license  being 
first  obtained  from  those  appointed  to  grant 
the  same."  Xot  much  liberty  of  the  press  in 
that  day,  but  doubtless  a  similar  law  would  be 
hailed  with  pleasure  by  the  ringsters  of  our 


30  THE  PRESS    THE  PULPIT, 

own  time.  In  1/04  another  start  was  made., 
but  it  advanced  with  difficulty,  as  the  church 
liked  it  not  and  the  authorities,  bowing  to  the 
church,  did  not  view  it  with  favor.  As  late 
as  1722  James,  the  brother  of  Benjamin 
Franklin,  was  imprisoned  for  speaking  too 
freely  in  the  columns  of  his  paper,  on  politi- 
cal matters.  He  gave  offense  to  such  good 
men  as  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather,  who  in 
the  spirit  of  true  Christianity — as  they  under- 
stood it  —  stigmatized  his  editorial  staff  as 
the  "  Hell-fire  Club,"  and  the  general  court 
then  in  session  decreed  that  James  should  no 
longer  print  a  paper.  It  was  then  that 
Benjamin  Franklin,  who  had  not  yet  reached 
the  age  of  twenty,  took  the  helm  of  journal- 
ism and  steered  boldly  into  the  open  sea  of 
turmoil,  unawed  by  those  in  power;  and  such 
was  his  progress  that  in  a  few  years  the  post- 
master-general authorized  him  to  send  his 


A. YD    THE  STAGE.  31 

paper  through  the  mails  —  postage  free.  It 
would  be  a  heavy  tax  to  grant  such  a  privi- 
lege to  the  press  of  to-day.  During  the  rev- 
olution the  new  art  struggled  against  adverse 
circumstances,  but  added  strength  to  those 
who  sought  encouragement  in  the  fight  for 
liberty.  Since  the  invention  of  printing  and 
the  discovery  of  America,  the  progress  of 
man  has  been  greater  than  during  the  fifteen 
preceding  centuries,  when  the  church  was  the 
guiding  star  of  the  human  race.  It  is  not  yet 
a  hundred  years  since  the  first  daily  paper  was 
published  in  this  country,  and  we  see  the 
advance  made  over  a  rough  road  leading  to 
riches.  It  has  achieved  liberty  and  greatness, 
but  it  has  not  always  been  faithful  to  its 
mission,  nor  respected  the  power  it  wields. 
Unlike  the  stage,  it  has  always  been  aggres- 
sive ;  unlike  the  pulpit,  it  has  always  been 
progressive.  It  has  cost  many  lives  and 


32          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

brought  dire  distress  to  many  a  happy  house- 
hold by  the  license  it  assumes.  Its  personal- 
ities from  an  impersonal,  and  too  frequently 
from  an  irresponsible  source,  are  a  blot  upon 
its  escutcheon  which  cannot  be  rubbed  off. 
Its  dealings  in  innuendo  to  the  injury  of  char- 
acter and  the  mortification  of  feelings,  is  a 
cowardly  abuse  of  power.  Its  criticisms  are 
often  more  cruel  than  just.  Its  self-lauda- 
tion, which  is  almost  universal,  is  a  custom 
which  would  be  more  "honored  in  the  breach 
than  the  observance."  It  is  rarely  a  fair  oppo- 
nent. It  accuses,  prosecutes  and  passes  sen- 
tence, frequently  denying  the  defendant  a 
hearing.  Its  apologies,  as  a  rule,  are  no  apol- 
ogies at  all.  But  its  faults  are  on  the  surface, 
and  with  discrimination  can  easily  be  sifted 
from  its  usefulness.  It  contains  within  itself 
the  power  of  reform  and  of  improvement.  It 
bears  progress  on  its  banner.  From  the  seven 


AND   THE  STAGE.  33 


by  eleven  sheet  it  has  grown  to  mammoth 
proportions.  It  comes  not  quarterly,  nor 
monthly  as  at  first,  but  at  all  hours,  from  the 
very  break  of  day,  when  we  are  aroused  by 
a  thousand  young  shrill  voices,'  shrieking, 
"  Here's  yer  morning  papers  ;  latest  news 
from  all  parts  of  the  world." 

Having  thus  placed  before  you  a  hurried 
panoramic  view  of  my  subject,  we  will  now 
enter  more  into  detail. 

Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  how  unfair  and 
irrational  the  pulpit  really  is  in  its  treatment 
of  the  stage  ?  Did  you  ever  give  it  a 
thought  ?  or  are  the  words  uttered  by  those 
who  should  have  an  influence  over  your 
action  of  such  little  value  as  to  make  no 
impression  ?  I  am  not  going  to  be  personal, 
but  I  have  read  a  report  of  a  sermon  in 
which  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  of  Charity 
declared  that  "  nine  out  of  every  ten  actresses 


34          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

of  to-day  are  unchaste  —  that  nine  out  of 
every  ten  actors  are  disreputable  and  im- 
moral," that  the  "  literature  of  the  stage  is 
and  always  has  been  vile,  dirty  and  devilish  " 
—  and  that  "  ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred 
opera-houses  have  a  saloon,  gambling-hell 
and  brothel  attached."  Is  not  that  out- 
rageous? Isn't  it  more  than  outrageous  - 
isn't  it  ridiculous  ?  I  quote  from  another  of 
these  self-proclaimed  Christians,  who  says : 
"  The  patrons  of  the  grog-shop  are  the 
patrons  of  the  theater.  The  patrons  of  the 
house  of  the  strange  woman  are  the  patrons 
of  the  theater.  The  patrons  of  the  gambling 
hells  are  the  patrons  of  the  theater  and  they 
go  there  because  they  find  what  they  want 
there  ;  because  their  depraved  appetites  are 
whetted  there."  "  I  charge,"  says 

this  orthodox  minister   "the  theater  to  be  a 
murderous   assault    upon    all    that   the  family 


AND   THE  STAGE.  35 

circle  holds  most  holy  and  sacred."  In  the 
spirit  of  charity  —  of  mercy — I  say  pass  to 
oblivion  the  names  of  those  who  spoke  the 
words  I  have  quoted.  If  such  were  the  rav- 
ings of  an  occasional  fanatic,  we  might  shrug 
our  shoulders  and  ignore  them.  But  it  is  the 
burden  of  a  song  which  has  been  hummed 
from  the  pulpit  North,  South,  East  and  West, 
during  my  entire  life  —  and  isn't  it  outrage- 
ous ?  Is  there  any  wonder  that  a  mind 
depraved  enough  to  utter  such  vicious  gener- 
alities can  discover  nothing  but  evil  in  plays 
which  are  pure  to  the  pure-minded  ?  Sup- 
pose I  were  to  point  to  the  frequent  exposure 
of  vice  of  all  degrees  and  hypocrisy  in  the 
church,  and  tell  you  there  is  absolutely  no 
health  in  it  —  would  that  be  fair?  Suppose 
I  take  a  minister  who  preaches  that  the  Lord 
inspired  Elisha  to  set  a  she-bear  on  some 
innocent  children  to  have  them  devoured 


36  TlfK  PRF.SS,    THE  PL' LI' IT, 


because  they  bellowed  "  balcl-head  "  at  him  as 
he  passed,  and  suppose  I  held  such  as  he  up  as 
a  type  of  the  pulpit  —  would  that  be  fair? 
Suppose  I  single  out  or  rather  lump  together, 
a  lot  of  preachers  and  Sunday-school  teachers 
who  instruct  little  children  that  Jews,  Indians 
and  infants  who  have  not  been  baptized  go 
straight  to  hell  when  they  die,  and  proclaim 
that  such  is  the  material  that  fills  our  pulpits 
-would  that  be  fair?  Or  suppose  I  summon 
all  the  occupants  of  all  the  pulpits  who  religi- 
ously subscribe  to  the  story  that  the  sun 
stood  still  at  Joshua's  command,  or  to  the 
romance  that  the  whale  swallowed  Jonah  (or 
Jonah  the  whale),  with  all  the  familiar  subse- 
quent proceedings  —  and  also  those  who 
believe  the  Lord  inspired  the  practices  of 
polygamy,  slavery,  human  sacrifice,  cruelty, 
torture  and  fienclishness  to  be  found  in  the 
pages  of  the  old  Bible,  and  insist  that  all 


AND   THE  STAGE.  37 

preachers  must  be  judged  by  such  a  standard 
-  would  that  be  fair  ?  Would  it  be  fair  for 
the  theater  to  maintain  that  all  religion  is 
superstition  ;  all  piety,  cant  ;  all  devotion, 
bigotry  ;  all  worship,  sham  and  pretense  ;  all 
the  Bible  obscene  and  blasphemous ;  all 
preachers,  or  nine  out  of  every  ten,  whited 
sepulchers,  and  that  ninety-nine  out  of  every 
hundred  churches  had  an  assignation  room 
attached  ?  No  !  Would  not  such  utterances 
be  condemned  —  justly  condemned  —  as  pre- 
judiced, unreasonable  and  wicked?  But  that 
course  would  be  as  fair  as  it  is  to  place  all 
theaters,  all  actresses,  all  actors,  and  all  plays 
upon  the  same  degraded  level  as  the  low 
saloons  and  halls  which  our  municipal  govern- 
ments license  as  theaters  and  permit  to  exist 
amonu;  us  ! 

The   trouble   with   too   many   occupants    of 
our   pulpits    is    that    their  view  of   life  is   in- 


38          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

variably  gloomy.  Unlike  the  poet,  the 
preacher  is  made,  not  born,  and  too  many  are 
made  in  the  same  mould.  You  can  tell  them 
as  far  as  you  can  see  them,  and  frequently 
you  can  recognize  them  in  the  dark  by  the 
intonation  of  the  voice.  They  ask  you  to  be 
joyful  with  a  countenance  that  looks  like  a 
cloudy  day  and  in  a  voice  that  leaves  you  in 
doubt  as  to  just  where  their  pain  is  located. 
When  they  say,  "  let  us  pray,"  it  is  with  a 
manner  calculated  to  remind  you  of  hard 
work  which  must  be  done,  or  implying  anger  at 
the  good  Lord  for  having  inflicted  the  bur- 
den of  life  upon  their  hearers.  There  are 
just  about  exceptions  enough  to  prove  the 
rule,  and  they  are  refreshing  when  found.  It 
is  worth  a  lonor  walk  on  a  stormy  day  to  hear 

o  J  * 

a  fervent  prayer  delivered  with  the  earnestness 
an  average  actor  speaks  his  lines.  But  the 
pulpit  prayer,  as  a  rule,  is  words  uttered  in  a 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


39 


manner  calculated  to  allow  your  thoughts  to 
wander  from  devotion  to  the  affairs  of  every- 
day life  —  corn  or  pork,  as  the  case  may  be. 
They  remind  me  of  the  guilty  king  in  Ham- 
let, who  says  : 

"  My  words  fly  up,  my  thoughts  remain  below; 
Words  without  thoughts  never  to  heaven  go.  " 

The  manner  of  these  mournful  preachers 
would  impress  mankind  as  lamenting  because 
the  good  Lord  has  given  us  sunshine  and 
flowers  ;  the  senses  to  enjoy,  the  heart  to  feel, 
the  mind  to  analyze  and  discriminate.  This 
would  be  but  a  dreary  world  indeed  if  we  all 
followed  the  dictum  the  orthodox  pulpit  would 
like  to  prescribe. 

Barnaby,  an  actor  of  our  day,  and  otherwise 
a  very  reputable  gentleman,  tells  a  story  which 
illustrates  the  whole  case:  One  of  these 
chronically  melancholy  and  morose  individuals 
died,  and  went  to  heaven.  A  terrestrial 


40          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

friend  followed  shortly  after,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  his  friend,  the  deacon,  as 
long-faced  and  lachrymose  as  he  had  been 
when  on  earth.  "  Why,  deacon,"  said  he. 
"  What  is  the  matter  ?  I  supposed  you  would 
be  happy  and  joyous  when  you  got  to  Par- 
adise." "  I  thought  so  too,"  was  the  deacon's 
reply,  "but  you  see  I  got  my  feet  wet  in 
crossing  the  river  Death.  I  came  up  here  on 
the  edge  of  a  damp  cloud  and  caught  cold.  I 
broke  one  of  my  wings  the  first  day  out,  and 
have  been  obliged  to  carry  it  in  a  sling  ever 
since ;  and  then  my  halo  don't  fit  worth  a 
—cent."  The  trouble  with  the  press,  on  the 
contrary,  is  that  it  does  not  take  a  sufficiently 
serious  view  of  life.  The  average  journalist 
will  tell  you  that  the  newspaper  lives  but  one 
day,  and,  believing  this,  the  tendency  of  the 
press  is  to  treat  all  things  as  though  their 
existence  were  equally  ephemeral.  Forgetful 


AND   THE  STAGE.  41 


of  the  fact  that  an  impression  is  more  lasting 
than  the  argument  which  creates  it,  the  press 
does  not  truly  appreciate  its  own  importance, 
much  as  it  prates  thereof ;  if  it  did,  it  would 
have  a  higher  sense  of  its  responsibility.  It 
has  a  wisdom  far  superior  to  the  church  It 
recognizes  the  universal  love  of  man  for 
amusement,  and  it  cunningly  avails  itself  of 
the  stage  as  one  of  its  standard  attractions. 
No  column  in  the  daily  newspaper  is  read 
with  greater  relish  than  that  set  apart  to  the 
theater.  And  yet  the  press  does  not  always 
treat  the  stage  with  justness.  Possibly 
because  it  is  not  at  all  times  capable  of  doing 
so,  for  the  reason  that  its  ever-changing  critic 
may  be  a  callow  youth,  who  has  made  a  hit  in 
police  reporting,  and,  full  of  confidence  in  his 
critical  ability,  proceeds  to  write  up  Bul- 
wer's  Richelieu  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  time- 
worn  plays.  Or  he  may  be  a  jagged,  jaded, 


42  THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

over-worked  and  blase  expert,  who  runs  into 
three  or  four  theaters  during  the  evening,  sees 
the  beginning  of  one  play,  the  middle  of 
another  and  the  end  of  a  third,  and  then 
damns  them  all  indiscriminately  the  next  day. 
"  Can't  you  speak  the  lines  as  I  do  ?"  growled 
Forrest  to  a  minor  actor  at  rehearsal.  "  If  I 
could,  I  would  not  be  here  at  $5  a  week,"  was 
the  prompt  reply.  So  perhaps  we  get,  as  a 
rule,  as  good  theatrical  criticism  as  the  pay 
warrants. 

But  the  press  is  too  much  disposed  to 
deal  in  the  same  loose,  hasty  fashion  with 
all  the  affairs  of  life.  It  aims  to  turn  all  mat- 
ters into  news,  and  dish  them  up,  as  near  as 
possible,  as  a  sensation.  It  is  supremely  self- 
ish, and  being  of  the  earth,  earthy,  by  the 
purification  of  the  world  only  will  it  be  puri- 
fied. With  the  birth  of  the  newsboy  came  a 
lower  standard  of  the  daily  press — but  the  sin 


AND   THE  STAGE.  43 

must  not  be  placed  upon  the  boys.  Within 
my  experience  newspapers  were  sold  almost 
exclusively  to  regular  subscribers,  and  the 
patrons  of  each  journal  exercised  a  direct 
influence  over  its  tone.  Not  so  now.  From 
one  to  five  cents  makes  a  patron,  and  the 
editor  seldom,  if  ever,  comes  in  contact  with 
his  readers  to  know  them.  The  conservative 
paper,  which  all  admire  but  few  patronize, 
toils  on  till  death,  while  the  reckless  sheet 
achieves  a  large  circulation  because  it  has  the 
patronage  of  those  who  condemn  as  well  as 
those  who  applaud  its  depravity.  Anthony 
Comstock,  the  suppressor  of  indecent  litera-  . 
ture,  says  the  proprietor  of  the  Police  Gazette 
told  him  that  most  of  the  articles  and  illustra- 
tions in  that  paper  are  based  upon  extracts 
from  the  daily  newspapers.  Those  who  con- 
trol our  daily  papers  don't  realize  how  much 
demoralization  they  must  answer  for.  Yet 


44  THE  PRESS,    'I'lII-:  PULPIT, 

the  press,  far  more  than  the  stage,  holds 
within  itself  the  power  of  reform.  It  is  an 
admitted  leader.  We  all  look  for  it,  and, 
were  it  true  to  its  mission,  making  reason,  not 
abuse,  its  sharpest  weapon,  it  would  lead,  not 
follow,  public  taste.  But  "evil  communica- 
tions corrupt  good  manners,"  and  the  prosper- 
ous sheet,  with  a  low  tone,  will  drag  down 
many  to  its  level  by  the  glamour  of  its  pros- 
perity. 

And  now  of  the  profession  for  which  I  may 
claim  to  speak  with  some  knowledge.  Those 
of  you  who  have  read  the  carping  criticisms 
of  the  press  or  listened  to  the  scathing  anath- 
emas of  the  pulpit,  may  be  astonished  when  I 
tell  you,  without  the  fear  of  successful  contra- 
diction, that  at  no  previous  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world  has  the  stage  ranked  so  high 
as  it  does  at  the  present  day.  No  one  of  the 
arts  has  made  more  progress.  In  former 


.l.YD   THE  STAGE.  45 

epochs  the  stage  was  subjected  to  the  disci- 
pline of  the  church  or  censors  appointed  by 
government.  To-day  the  public  has  estab- 
lished a  severer  regime  of  good  taste  and  de- 
corum, and  the  theater  keeps  pace  with  civili- 
zation, society,  and  government.  There  may 
be  much  to  deplore  now  in  it  as  in  all 
other  matters,  but  there  is  certainly  comfort 
in  the  reflection  that  the  conditions  are  in- 
finitely better  than  ever  before.  Is  there  one 
among  you  who  regrets  that  his  or  her  life 
was  not  allotted  to  some  earlier  period  of 
time  ?  Does  history  picture  any  age  or  coun- 
try which  offered  so  many  attractions  as  our 
own  ?  The  stage,  along  with  other  institu- 
tions, has  enjoyed  the  refining  and  progress- 
ive influences  of  the  same  forces  which  have 
operated  to  develop  social  life.  Excellence 
is  always  a  matter  of  comparison.  Some  plays 
are  better  than  other  plays  ;  some  actors  bet- 


46          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

ter  than  other  actors  ;  some  editors  and 
preachers  (not  many)  better  than  other  peo- 
ple. In  the  same  way  the  stage  of  our  day, 
as  a  whole,  is  vastly  superior  in  the  entertain- 
ment it  affords  the  public  to  the  stage  of  any 
former  period.  The  cry  about  the  degener- 
acy of  the  stage,  and  the  good  old  days  of  the 
drama,  is  an  old,  old  story,  which  had  its  start 
with  crushed  tragedians,  subdued  comedians, 
and  those  unhappy  natures,  who,  having  out- 
lived their  usefulness,  if  they  ever  had  any, 
walk  through  life  with  a  dark  cloud  before 
their  eyes,  causing  them  to  see  only  them- 
selves, and  hence  nothing  but  degeneracy; 
and,  thinking  backward,  they  believe  if  they 
had  lived  a  thousand  years  that  way  they 
would  have  been  appreciated.  Then  we  have 
another  class  in  the  profession — very  small, 
almost  amounting  to  a  cypher — but  exercising 
a  power  because  they  wear  the  crown  of  sue- 


AND   THE  STAGE.  47 

cess.  This  class  traduce  their  own  calling  for 
the  purpose  of  fawning  upon  and  toadying 
to  an  element  of  society,  which,  in  their  cow- 
ardice, they  deem  better  than  themselves. 
They  are  selfish  and  treacherous  by  nature, 
and  they  buzz  around  the  modern  critic,  who, 
taking  up  their  cry,  writes  as  if  he  had  made  a 
new  discovery,  forgetting  that  the  ancient 
Greek  and  Roman  writers  were  of  the  opinion 
that  the  stage  was  degenerating  in  their  day. 
The  divines  of  Shakespeare's  time,  among 
others  Gosson,  and  Joseph  Hall,  who  became 
a  bishop,  denounced  the  theater,  which  even 
Ben  Jonson  spoke  of  as  "the  loathed  stage." 
Play  actors  under  Queen  Elizabeth  were— 
unless  vouched  for — stigmatized  by  law  as 
"  rogues,"  and  they  advanced  only  to  the  rank 
of  "vagabonds"  under  King  James.  Shake- 
speare himself  was  depreciated  by  his  contem- 
poraries. Samuel  Pepys,  an  old  gossip  who 


48  THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

kept  a  diary,  pronounced  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream  "the  most  ridiculous  play  that 
ever  he  had  seen  in  his  life  ;"  and  perhaps  it 
was  as  given  in  his  day.  He  thought  The 
Tempest  had  "  no  great  wit,"  and  he  dismissed 
Othello  as  "  a  mean  thing."  The  stage  was 
evidently  degenerating  in  the  days  of  Pepys. 
Voltaire  joined  the  crowd  in  condemning  the 
theater  a  little  later  on,  and  Moliere,  the 
Shakespeare  of  France,  was  denounced  in  his 
day  as  a  "demon  in  man's  clothing."  Colley 
Gibber,  a  poor  actor  and  unsuccessful  mana- 
ger, and  also  a  tinker  of  Shakespeare's  plays, 
deplored  "  the  fatal  pollution  of  virtue  and 
manners  wrought  by  the  theater,  and  lament- 
ed the  "good  old  days  of  dramatic  glory,  never 
to  come  again  ;"  and  he  might  have  added 
under  his  management.  Dunlap,  an  historian 
of  the  American  stage,  also  an  unsuccessful 
manager,  quotes,  with  approval,  the  words 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


49 


Gibber  applied  to  an  earlier  period  in  Eng- 
land, and  says,  "  they  read  as  if  they  were 
written  by  some  old  fellow  of  seventy  in  the 
year  1832." 

A  few  years  ago,  when  British  burlesque 
(designated  by  our  critics  as  the  all  leg  and 
no  brain  drama)  was  introduced  into  the  coun- 
try, we  were  told,  by  press  and  pulpit,  that  it 
was  destined  to  drag  the  stage  down  to  perdi- 
tion. Then  came  the  French  comedy  as  the 
rock  on  which  the  theater  was  to  be  wrecked. 
And  so  it  goes.  There  is  not  a  day  that  does 
not  bring  forth  some  Jeremiad  over  the  decline 
of  the  staofe.  But  as  the  same  was  true 

O 

ten  years  ago — fifty  years  ago — one  hundred 
years  ago — three  hundred— live  hundred  years 
ago,  during  all  which  time  the  stage  has  been 
steadily  improving,  these  chronic  croakings  do 
not  inspire  any  great  apprehension  for  the 
future,  nor  any  dismay  as  to  the  present. 


5<D  THE  PRESS,   THE  PULPIT, 

People  do  not  pause  to  take  this  historical 
view  of  the  case  (which  is  a  complete  answer 
to  the  alleged  deterioration  and  degeneracy 
of  the  stage),  but  they  are  confident  in  their 
own  judgment  and  perceptions,  which  find 
no  such  depravity  as  the  press  sometimes  and 
the  pulpit  always  depicts.  In  the  vast  thea- 
ters of  the  ancients  the  actors  were  obliged  to 
wear  great  ugly  masks,  and  raise  themselves 
on  stilts  to  be  seen,  and  to  bellow  through 
pipes,  like  a  modern  fire  marshal,  in  order  to 
be  heard.  Are  we  worse  off  than  the  public 
of  that  day  ?  During  the  supervision  of  the 
church  over  the  stage,  the  "  Miracles,"  "  Mor- 
alities "  and  "  Mysteries,"  as  they  called  their 
plays,  were  frequently  of  four  days'  duration, 
and  required  from  one  hundred  to  five  hun- 
dred bad  actors  in  their  representation.  Are 
you  sorry  you  have  missed  that  sort  of  thing  ? 
In  Shakespeare's  time,  the  change  of  scene  was 


AND   THE  STAGE.  51 

denoted  by  a  change  of  placard.  The  sign, 
"  This  is  a  castle,"  was  taken  down  to  make 
room  for  another,  "  This  is  a  ship,"  "  This  is 
a  forest,"  according  to  the  necessities  of  the 
play.  Does  the  stage  of  to-day  show  degen- 
eracy as  compared  with  that  condition  of 
things  ?  About  this  same  time,  the  female 
characters  were  represented  by  men — not 
always  cleanly  shaven.  Think  of  the  love 
passages  of  Shakespeare  ;  of  Romeo  and  a 
Juliet,  with  a  red  and  black  beard.  Oh,  how 
romantic  to  have  lived  and  gone  to  the  theater 
in  those  days  !  Play  houses  were  frequently 
located  over  barns.  Are  our  handsomely 
decorated  and  comfortably  upholstered  audi- 
toriums no  improvement  upon  that  ?  Audi- 
ences would  tear  up  the  benches — there  were 

no  cushions — and  threaten  to  burn  the  house, 

i 

when  the  performances  did  not  suit  them,  and 
people  took  their  lives  in  their  hands  who 


52  Till-:  PRESS,   TlIK  PULPIT, 


attended  a  first  night.  Is  there  anything  like 
a  universal  demand  for  a  revival  of  those  man- 
ners and  customs,  referred  to  so  often  as  the 
good  old  days  of  the  drama  ?  Sol  Smith,  one 
of  the  veterans  of  the  American  sta^e,  and  an 

o     7 

early  manager  in  the  South  and  West,  describes 
the  experience  of  pioneer  life,  when  one  actor 
appeared  in  so  many  parts,  in  the  same  play,' 
and  after  being  killed  in  the  last  scene  was 
obliged  to  fall  far  enough  off  the  stage  to  play 
slow  music  on  the  violin  as  the  curtain 
descended.  And  I  could  add  my  experience 
to  the  same  scene,  at  a  still  later  period,  when 
the  actor  who  had  killed  the  other  would  rush 
off  the  other  side,  in  order  to  let  the  curtain 
down.  How  would  such  a  scene  be  received 
on  the  "  degenerate  "  stage  of  to-day,  even  in 
small  towns  ?  Young  as  I  am  in  the  history 
of  the  stage,  I  have  seen  some  of  the  so-called 
"good  old  days  of  the  drama,"  and  have  care- 


AND   THE  STAGE.  53 


fully  watched  the  growth  of  the  "  degenerate  " 
ones,  as  spoken  of  by  certain  brilliant  lights  of 
the  pulpit  and  the  press,  and  by  disappointed 
actors. 

I  remember  acting  in  Georgia  during  "  the 
good  old  days  "  in  that  state,  when  the  actor 
who  was  to  personate  Othello  was  waited 
upon  by  a  committee  of  citizens  and  notified 
that  he  must  put  no  color  on  his  face,  as  it 
would  be  setting  a  bad  example  to  see  a 
white  girl  in  love  with  a  colored  man; — so 
Othello  was  given  without  paint,  and  some  of 
the  lines  omitted  to  please  those  who  lived 
and  ruled  in  those  "good  old  days."  In  one 
of  the  then  bright  towns  of  Mississippi,  I 
have  acted  on  a  stage  built  in  a  ball-room  by 
placing  an  old-fashioned  high  post  bedstead 
on  each  side  and  hanging  sheets  on  the  post 
to  form  a  proscenium  —  with  a  curtain  impro- 
vised with  two  patch-work  bed  quilts.  The 


54          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

only  exits  we  had  were  behind  the  heads  of 
the  beds  —  the  ladies  using  one  side,  the  gen- 
tlemen the  other  for  dressing  rooms.  One  of 
the  attractions  was  the  "  good  old  "  farce  of 
"The  Secret,  or  a  Hole  in  the  Wall,"  for  the 
proper  performance  of  which  there  is  required 
a  secret  panel  in  the  scene,  from  which  one 
of  the  characters  makes  an  entrance  and  exit. 
When  we  came  to  this  point  in  the  play,  the 
character  rolled  out  of  bed  and  jumped  back 
again  to  make  his  exit,  and  the  elite  of  Cof- 
feeville  were  convulsed  with  laughter ;  and 
when  the  newspaper  of  the  town  came  out  it 
praised  the  admirable  acting  and  the  excel- 
lent stage  arrangements.  I  remember  this 
occasion  well,  for  the  reason  that  the  season 
was  unsuccessful  and  salaries  were  not  paid, 
which  was  frequently  the  case  in  the  "good 
old  days."  The  manager,  however  had 
become  responsible  for  the  board  of  the  com- 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


55 


pany,  and  the  landlord,  a  warm-hearted 
southerner,  was  not  hard  to  settle  with,  but 
thought  he  ought  to  have  something  to  re- 
member the  party  by,  and  was  willing  to 
accept  a  note,  made  payable  at  a  time  to  suit 
the  convenience  of  the  maker.  The  manager 
was  a  shrewd  speculator  —  they  lived  in  those 
days  as  well  as  the  present  —  and,  as  he  told 
the  story  afterward  —  not  much  to  his  credit 
—he  gave  a  note  for  the  full  amount,  which 
read,  "  one  day  after  eternity,  I  promise," 
etc.  It  is  useless  to  say  that  he  and  the  land- 
lord matured  before  the  note.  I  had  some 
little  experience  with  the  "good  old  days  of 
the  drama  "  in  Missouri.  There  were  then 
no  theaters  in  any  but  a  few  of  the  larger 
cities,  but  the  people,  true  to  their  instincts, 
desired  the  drama  and  would  have  it,  in  a 
school  room,  dining  room,  court  house,  or 
any  place  they  could  get  it.  I  remember 


56          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

being  connected  with  a  dramatic  incident 
which  occurred  in  a  school  house  in  one  of 
the  small  towns  in  Missouri,  during  the  good 
old  days.  You  all  know  what  a  country 
school  house  is  like  ;  the  architecture  does 
not  differ  much.  The  one  we  are  now  inter- 
ested in  had  but  one  door  by  which  to  enter 
the  building.  This  opened  into  a  hall  lead- 
ing to  another  door  opening  into  the  school- 
room, which  had  numerous  windows  at 
each  side  and  the  rear  end.  By  the  front 
door,  each  side,  were  closets  in  which  the 
boys  and  girls  would  hang  their  hats,  shawls 
and  dinner  baskets  —  girls  to  the  right,  boys 
left,  of  course.  On  the  present  occasion  the 
dramatic  company  used  these  closets  for 
dressing  rooms.  From  the  door  leading  into 
the  school-room  to  the  front  row  of  benches 
was  only  about  four  feet,  in  which  space 
great  acting  was  expected.  The  front  seats, 


AND   THE  STAGE.  57 


remember,  were  reserved  for  ladies,  and  on 
this  occasion  they  were  filled.  The  audience 
were  all  let  in  and  the  front  door  locked 
before  the  curtain  rose,  that  is,  before  the 
performance  commenced.  I  was  quite  tragic 
in  those  good  old  days  and  foacl  of  giving 
between  the  plays  some  serious  recitation. 
On  this  occasion  it  was  the  "  Sailor  Boy's 
Dream,"  in  costume.  I  will  not  inflict  you 
with  the  entire  recitation,  as  two  stanzas  will 
suffice.  Remember  there  is  but  four  feet 
between  the  actor  and  a  row  of  pretty 
Missouri  girls  : 

"  A  father  bends  o'er  him  with  look  of  delight  ; 

His  cheek  is  impearled  with  a  mother's  warm  tear  ; 
And  the  lips  of  the  boy  with  a  love  kiss  unite 

With  the  lips  of  the  maid  whom  his  bosom  holds  dear." 

In  my  fervor,  I  caught  the  eye  of  one  of 
the  girls  on  the  front  bench,  who,  doubtless, 
deeming  me  personal,  put  up  her  hand  and 
exclaimed,  "Oh,  my!"  which  ejaculation 


58          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

seemed  to  amuse  the  audience  more  than  my 
recitation.  But  determined  not  to  be  put 
down,  I  braced  my  nerves  and  proceeded: 

"  The  heart  of  the  sleeper  beats  high  in  his  breast; 

Joy  quickens  his  pulse  —  his  hardships  seem  o'er; 
A  murmur  of  happiness  steals  through  his  rest; 

Oh,  God,  tHou  hast  blest  me,  I  ask  for  no  more." 

At  that  point  it  was  customary  to  kneel,  so 
you  can  see  my  position.  That  young  lady's 
head  was  between  my  hands,  and  she  shouted, 
"oh,  don't  come  so  close,"  and  at  the  same 
time  I  heard  a  yell  and  looking  up  saw  the 
windows  of  the  school  room  filled  with  Indi- 
ans who  had  doubtless  been  attracted  by  my 
tragic  tones,  and,  seeing  the  position  I  was  in 
with  the  lady,  thought  the  massacre  had  com- 
menced ;  so  I  made  a  hasty  exit  to  the  hat- 
room  feeling  for  my  scalp. 

In  Chicago,  during  my  time,  some  "good 
old  days"  have  passed.  No  manager  was 
ever  more  loyal  to  his  patrons  than  J.  B.  Rice, 


AND   THE  STAGE.  59 

who  built  the  first  regular  theater  in  this  city 
in  1847.  His  companies  were  necessarily 
small,  but  he  expected  each  member  to  be 
competent  to  act  many  parts  and  set  the 
example  by  doing  so  himself.  He  would  act 
two  or  three  important  characters  in  a  play, 
and  if  numbers  were  wanted  he  would  throw 
a  black  cloak  over  his  other  dress  and  act  the 
mob  with  a  spirit  that  would  appall  the  villain 
of  the  play.  He  was  a  general  actor  and 
thoroughly  understood  the  requirements  of 
his  profession  and  how  to  surmount  difficul- 
ties. He  would  argue  and  convince  an  ordi- 
nary star  that  it  was  better  to  hang  "  Wil- 
liam," in  the  drama  of  "  Black-eyed  Susan," 
from  the  limb  of  a  tree  than  from  the  yard- 
arm  of  His  Majesty's  ship  —  when  he  had  no 
ship  in  the  theater.  In  time  I  became  his 
stage  manager.  On  one  occasion  "  Othello  " 
was  to  be  given,  but  when  night  came  I 


60          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 


learned  that  the  leading  man  who  was  to  per- 
sonate Othello  had  gone  out  to  dine  with  a 
party  of  gentlemen  at  a  suburban  hotel,  and 
could  not  possibly  be  back  in  time  to  com- 
mence the  play.  Rice  was  a  stickler  for  giv- 
ing his  audience  the  play  the  bill  announced, 
and  as  I  had  heard  him  say  he  had  acted 
everything  when  in  Buffalo,  I  went  to  his 
room  where  he  was  dressing  for  the  Duke, 
and  without  letting  him  know  the  situation  I 
said:  "  Mr.  Rice,  did  you  ever  act  Othello  ?" 
He  looked  up  with  a  pride  which  can  only  be 
appreciated  by  a  professional  when  able  to 
say  that  he  has  acted  an  important  Shakes- 
perean  character,  and  replied:  "  Yes,  in  Skan- 
eateles."  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  now  you  shall  have 
a  chance  in  Chicago,"  and  then  I  told  him 
how  matters  stood.  He  expostulated  —  would 
rather  dismiss  the  audience  —  but  he  had 
made  me  his  manager  and  I  would  be  obeyed. 


AND   THE  STAGE.  6 1 


Othello  was  announced  and  the  "audience 
must  not  be  disappointed  while  it  was  in  my 
power  to  give  the  play.  He  desired  me  to 
apologize  to  the  audience,  but  I  argued  that 
would  only  attract  attention  to  his  weak 
points,  and  the  audience  would  discover  them 
soon  enough.  I  did  not  believe  in  advance 
apologies.  He  dressed  for  Othello;  I,  in 
addition  to  Roderigo,  with  the  aid  of  wigs  and 
robes,  assumed  the  characters  of  the  Duke 
and  Desdemona's  uncle,  and  the  play  went 
on,  Rice  acting  at  Othello  and  swearing  at 
the  leading  man.  He  knew  most  of  the  lines 
and,  like  a  well-trained  actor,  had  the  faculty 
of  omitting  that  which  he  did  not  know  in  a 

i^ 

pleasing  manner.  He  labored  through  three 
acts,  when  the  absent  Othello  appeared  upon 
the  scene.  I  told  him  to  prepare  to  finish 
the  play,  and  I  notified  Rice  that  I  had  no 
further  use  for  his  services  that  night,  as  Mr. 


62          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 


McFarland  would  finish  the  part.  He  was 
thankful  and  resigned,  and  so  the  audience 
had  two  Othellos,  one  for  the  first  three  acts 
weighing  about  two  hundred  and  forty  pounds, 
and  for  the  last  acts  one  weighing  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  A  short  time 
since  my  attention  was  called  to  this  incident 
by  an  old  play-goer,  who  had  just  witnessed 
Salvini  as  Othello,  saying:  "  Mack,  Salvini  is 
good,  but  no  Othello  has  ever  satisfied  me 

o 

since  I  saw  Rice  and  McFarland  in  the  part. 
That  was  a  realistic  Othello — a  fine,  noble- 
looking  one  in  the  first  part  of  the  play,  and 
a  thin,  cadaverous  one  at  the  end,  making  it 
appear  as  if  the  Moor  had  lost  flesh  when 
his  domestic  troubles  began.  Salvini  cannot 
reach  that  point  of  excellence."  Chicago  has 
grown  so  rapidly  that  the  primitive  and  mature 
days  of  the  drama  "  tread  upon  each  other's 
heels,"  and  I  am  frequently  asked  by  the  old 


AND   THE  STAGE.  63 


play-goers  who  now  feel  like  retiring  before 
the  play  is  over,  if  we  have  as  much  fun  at 
the  theaters  now  as  in  the  "good  old  times  ?" 
We  do,  but  of  a  different  kind.  Much  of  the 
mirth  in  new  places  is  of  a  personal  charac- 
ter, a  familiarity  between  actor  and  audience, 
which  disappears  with  age  and  large  popula- 
tions. Early  impressions  cling  to  us  ;  the 
flavor  of  a  peach  is  better  during  the  first 
decade  of  our  existence  than  when  we  are 
three-score.  The  peach  is  as  good,  perhaps 
better,  but  we  have  lost  our  taste,  and  fre- 
quently blame  it  on  the  fruit.  So,  with  many, 
the  good  old  days  of  the  drama  are  those  of 
youth  and  familiarity,  and  can  be  found  now 
by  those  who  emigrate  to  Dakota,  Leadville, 
or  New  Mexico  ;  but  those  who  remain  at 
home  will  upon  observation  find  that  in  all 
its  appurtenances  and  comforts  ;  in  all  its  illu- 
sions and  effects  ;  in  all  that  makes  the  thea- 


64  TIIE  ^Vv'A'XV,    THE  PULPIT, 

ter  attractive,  the  stage  of  to-day  exceeds  its 
forerunners  in  briliancy  as  much  as  the  elec- 
tric light  outshines  the  old  tallow  dip. 

It  may  freely  be  admitted  that  the  contem- 
poraneous theater  is  more  a  place  for  amuse- 
ment than  a  school  for  instruction,  and  that 
the  current  drama  is  written  rather  to  enter- 
tain than  to  teach.  This  is  not  to  be 
deplored.  Progress  demands  greater  accu- 
racy in  information  than  the  stage  can  give, 
and  at  the  same  time  retain  its  character  as  a 
purveyor  of  amusement ;  and  the  same  prog- 
ress has  provided  in  abundance  more  suitable, 
more  effective  and  more  trustworthy  educa- 
tional institutions  than  the  theater.  There  are 
other  fountains  where  the  student  may  drink. 
Information  has  been  opened  up  to  the  masses 
through  free  schools,  cheap  books  and  maga- 
zines, the  all-pervading  newspaper,  the  lecture 
lyceum,  the  literary  societies,  the  public  libra- 


AND    THE  STAGE.  65 


ries,  the  reading  clubs  and  numerous  popular 
and  available  channels.  At  the  same  time  it 
may  be  truthfully  contended  that  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  people,  even  of  the  present  day, 
obtain  their  ideas  of  history,  and  especially  of 
art,  culture  and  society,  from  the  stage  ;  peo- 
ple who  learn  by  observation,  who  read  but 
little,  and  rarely  go  to  church.  In  so  far,  the 
stage  is  an  educator  and  always  will  be,  for 
such  people  would  read  no  more  than  they 
do,  nor  go  to  church  oftener,  if  there  were 
no  theaters.  While  it  is  as  an  entertainment 
that  the  stage  appeals  to  the  public,  the  drama 
is  not  less  an  art  on  that  account.  Surely 
people  of  culture  know  and  will  admit  that 
the  artistic  is  amusing.  The  theater  does 
mankind  an  inestimable  service  if  it  merely 
amuses.  Amusement  is  more  essential  to  the 
public  welfare  than  ever  before.  Men  and 
women  are  more  deeply  engrossed  than  ever 


66  TffE  PRESS,   THE  PULPIT, 


in  the  daily  routine  of  life,  whether  it  be  pro- 
fessional, business  or  social.  They  have 
strayed  from  the  restful  ways  of  living  which 
their  forefathers  enjoyed.  It  is  fortunate, 
physically,  mentally  and  morally,  that  the 
drama  has  taken  on  the  distinctive  character 
of  an  amusement,  at  once  more  rational,  more 
entertaining  and  more  elevating  than  home 
gambling,  and  most  of  the  diversions  that 
attract  overworked  people.  But  the  theater 
cannot  submit  to  the  dictation  of  pedants  and 
professional  moralists  ,  if  it  did,  it  would  soon 
cease  to  entertain.  The  legitimate  drama, 
so-called,  is  in  no  danger  of  being  driven  from 
the  stage.  Neither  spectacle,  nor  opera,  nor 
burlesque,  nor  gymnastics  have  crowded  it 
out.  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  sham  about 
the  reformers.  People  will  affect  admiration 
for  things  they  do  not  enjoy.  The  dilettanti 
who  cry  out  most  for  Shakespeare  and  the 


AND   THE  STAGE.  67 


legitimate  drama  are  the  stay-at-homes,  who 
rarely  go  to  the  theater,  and  do  but  little 
toward  fostering  dramatic  taste,  for  the  reason 
they  have  sufficient  pleasure  in  their  own  cir- 
cle. Theaters  would  be  bankrupt  and  the 
public  deprived  of  a  favorite  pastime,  if  man- 
agers were  to  defer  to  the  pretensions  or 
demands  of  any  one  class.  Sometimes  fash- 
ion attracts  the  crowd  to  see  some  monstros- 
ity, or  giant,  or  supposed  great  artist,  sur- 
rounded by  others  employed  at  rates  to  swell 
the  profits  of  the  star  and  save  the  manager 
from  loss,  while  the  same  plays,  acted  uni- 
formly, in  a  more  artistic  and  satisfactory  man- 
ner, would  be  presented  to  empty  benches 
without  the  star.  But  the  steady  patrons  of 
the  theater — the  people  to  whom  it  is  an 
amusement — demand  diversified  attractions. 
They  do  not  always  want  to  shudder  at  Rich- 
ard or  Macbeth,  nor  drivel  with  Hamlet  or 


68          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 


Romeo.  They — the  great  masses — seek  their 
amusement  in  an  easy,  familiar  and  comforta- 
ble way,  and  are  fond  of  novelty.  While  inno- 
vations and  trespassers  ought  to  be  discour- 
aged in  the  interest  of  art,  the  stage  must  not 
be  permitted  to  relapse  into  the  dreary  monot- 
ony of  the  pulpit  or  the  rigid  discipline  of 
the  study,  for  in  that  case  its  occupation  would 
be  gone.  It  would  then  cease  to  entertain, 
and  lose  its  strongest  claim  upon  existence. 
The  stage7  is  steadily  improving  for  the  reason 
that  mankind  is  steadily  undergoing  a  change, 
and  the  stage,  true  to  its  mission,  holds  up 
the  mirror  that  the  reform  may  be  seen;  but 
the  notoriety-seeking  preacher  cannot  see  its 
advance,  for  he  is  of  the  Bourbon  race,  and 
neither  learns  nor  forgets.  With  a  doubt- 
creating  pulpit  and  a  sensational  press,  is  it  not 
to  the  credit  of  the  theater  that  it  occupies  its 
present  proud  position  ?  Proprieties  of  the 


AND    THE  STAGE.  69 

stage,  as  of  society,  are  controlled,  in  great 
measure,  by  the  customs  of  the  age,  which 
come  unlocked  for  with  the  progress  of  civil- 
ization— the  true  mission  of  man  on  earth. 

The  influence  of  national  habits  over  the 
drama  is  well  illustrated  by  the  fact  that 
intrigues  with  married  women  are  rigidly 
excluded  from  the  Japanese  drama,  though 
girls  and  unmarried  women  are  frequently 
represented  as  incarnate  monsters  of  vice. 
The  reverse  of  this  rule  governs  the  French, 
English,  German,  and  American  stage.  Hence, 
we  should  condemn  the  prevailing  practice  of 
the  Japanese  drama,  while  the  Japanese  would 
be  equally  shocked  at  ours.  Kissing  was  ex- 
cluded from  the  old  plays  of  India,  but 
we  have  abundant  reason  to  believe  that 
osculatory  indulgence  is  now  looked  upon 
with  leniency  by  the  church  itself.  Cases 
have  been  reported  by  the  press  where 


JO  THE  /Vv'A.V.Y,    THE  P  ['].!>  IT, 

even  ministers  have  enjoyed  the  luxury, 
a  proof  of  the  advancement  of  civilization.  If 
editors  condemn  the  practice  in  the  church, 
it  is  probably  because  kissing  goes  by  favor, 
and  then  editors,  with  a  desire  to  be  criti- 
cal, frequently  condemn  that  which  they  know 
nothing  about.  The  stage  deals  with  human 
emotions,  and,  in  doing  so,  it  exposes  vice  in  a 
lurid  light,  exalts  truth  and  virtue  beyond  the 
power  of  eloquence,  and  reaches  the  heart 
of  man  through  pity  and  love.  Our  northern 
states  never  to  any  extent  became  anti-slav- 
ery, though  preached  at  from  the  formation 
of  our  government,  by  politician,  press  and 
pulpit,  until  the  stage  placed  before  them  the 
drama  of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  and  with  living 
pictures  told  the  tale,  impressing  its  truth  upon 
the  people.  The  ex-slaves  of  America  will 
never  know  how  much  they  are  indebted  to 
the  stage.  Ministers  will  not  tell  them  ;  poli- 


AND   THE  STAGE.  71 

ticians  will  not,  and  the  stage,  unlike  the 
press,  is  no  braggart.  The  audience  in  the 
theater,  unlike  the  congregation  in  the  church, 
is  always  moved ;  hence  the  power  of  the 
stage,  which  places  the  good  and  bad  of 
human  nature  side  by  side  and  never  antag- 
onizes morality.  If  there  is  an  absence  of  a 
lesson  in  a  play,  the  performance  is  designed 
simply  to  make  people  laugh,  and  laughter  is 
admitted  to  be  a  service  to  mankind  by  all 
except  those  who  regard  it  as  the  penalty  of 
original  sin. 

Doubtless  with  the  stage  there  are  many 
abuses  to  correct  —  many  barnacles  to  scrape 
off  —  but  its  advancement  during  the  present 
generation  bespeaks  confidence  in  its  steady 
improvement,  for  the  public  will  learn  to  dis- 
criminate, and  experience  will  teach  the 
purely  speculative  manager  that  nothing  pays 
so  well  in  the  long  run  as  good  clean  work. 


72          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 


Those  who  win  the  esteem  of  the  people  — 
manager  or  artist  —  and  prosper  longest,  will 
be  those  who  respect  themselves  and  the  art ; 
and  there  is  no  danger  of  the  degeneracy  of 
the  stage  while  mankind  continues  on  the 
progressive  road  of  refinement.  It  is  need- 
less for  me  to  dwell  on  its  shortcomings,  for 
they  are  open  to  the  world,  being  exposed 
more  than  the  sins  of  any  other  calling.  While 
the  minister  is  protected  by  the  halo  of  our 
hallucinations  and  the  editor  hides  behind  his 
impersonal  "  we,"  the  actor  is  a  free  mark  for 
the  shafts  of  malice,  prejudice,  satire  and 
ignorant  criticism.  The  editor  burns  the 
midnight  oil ;  the  minister  is  seen  by  the  "dim 
religious  light"  of  the  church;  but  the  actor 
must  face  the  glare  of  the  lime-light  or  the 
lurid  flame  of  red  fire.  The  strongest  protest 
against  one  of  the  abuses  of  the  stage  in 
some  of  our  cities  should  come  from  the 


AND   THE  STAGE.  73 

theatrical  profession  itself  and  to  a  certain 
extent  does.  Sunday  theatrical  performances 
are  scandalous,  because  they  are  unnecessary. 
They  are  unjust  to  over-worked  actors  and 
all  the  employes  about  theaters  —  who,  as  a 
rule,  receive  but  six  days'  pay  for  seven  days' 
labor.  They  are  demoralizing  for  the  reason 
that  they  tend  to  impair  the  respect  which 
Americans  intuitively  bestow  upon  the  day. 
They  are  the  out-growth  of  seed  planted  by 
those  who  had  no  respect  for  themselves,  the 
day  or  the  theater,  and  they  have  been 
defended  and  encouraged  by  that  class  of 
politicians  who  tell  you  that  we  need  a  "  con- 
tinental Sunday  in  this  country."  When 
Sunday  theatricals  commenced  in  Chicago, 
those  in  power  were  appealed  to  to  raise  the 
finger  of  'authority  and  stop  them,  but  the 
reply  was,  "  we  can't,  it  will  hurt  the  party." 
So  the  stage  is  not  alone  to  blame  for  the 


74          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT, 

abuse.  Those  who  work  six  days  should 
have  one  of  rest,  and  as  Sunday  is  estab- 
lished, theaters  can  well  afford  to  give  it  up 
to  the  gospel  implied  by  the  day  —  the 
gospel  of  rest,  peace  and  good  will  to 
all.  That  the  stage  may  be  improved,  no 
one  will  deny  ;  to  claim  perfection  for  it 
would  be  folly,  but  to  urge  that  it  has  kept 
pace  with  the  general  progress  of  our  country 
is  simply  to  assert  that  which  cannot  be  suc- 
cessfully contradicted.  It  is  subject  to  the 
same  contingencies  as  all  other  pursuits  cater- 
ing for  public  favor.  It  has  its  art  and  com- 
mercial side,  and  frequently  it  falls  into  the 
hands  of  those  not  capable  of  guiding  both  ; 
who,  taking  advantage  of  a  non-discriminat- 
ing public,  allow  the  commercial  side  to  run 
riot,  while  the  art  side  is  lost  sight  of.  This 
cannot  be  classed  as  a  fault,  but  a  misfortune 
for  which  there  is  no  remedy,  except  in  a  dis- 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


75 


criminating  public.  The  stage  cannot  expect 
protection,  for  it  claims  no  political  influence. 
Our  legislatures  seldom  deem  it  worthy 
of  notice  except  at  the  suggestion  of  some 
bigot  who  thinks  it  should  be  taxed  out  of 
existence.  The  author  who  writes  for  it 
can  be  robbed  with  impunity,  congress  not 
knowing  how  to  protect  that  quality  of  brain, 
it  being,  I  presume,  unknown  to  or  unappre- 
ciated by  the  average  member.  Amusements 
for  the  people  should  be  considered  worthy 
of  thought  —  intelligent  thought  —  by  those 
selected  to  govern;  but  they  are  not,  and  nine- 
tenths  of  the  errors  attributed  to  theaters  can 
be  placed  at  the  door  of  our  municipal  gov- 
ernments ;  and  this  is  not  strange  when  we 
consider  how  municipalities  are  created.  We 
are  like  a  large  family  —  we  differ  in  our 
desires  and  tastes.  We  may  all  sit  at  the 
same  table,  but  different  dishes  must  be  pro- 


76  THE  PRESS,   THE  PULPIT, 

vided,  for  the  digestive  organs  of  all  are  not 
equal.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  head  of  the 
family  —  the  government  —  to  see  that  no 
poisoned  food  is  furnished,  while  the  variety 
is  ample. 

In  the  hearts  of  the  people  the  stage  proper 
has  a  place  from  which  the  pulpit  cannot 
drive  it,  because  it  offers  palatable  food,  not 
of  sin,  as  the  church  proclaims,  not  of  a  kind 
calculated  to  produce  a  nightmare,  as  that 
furnished  by  the  pulpit  frequently  does,  but 
a  food  easily  digested  and  seldom  doing  harm, 
serious  harm,  even  with  over-feeding. 

Discrimination  on  the  part  of  press,  pul- 
pit and  stage,  on  the  part  of  the  people,  will 
help  to  bring  about  the  necessary  reform  ;  but 
whether  in  our  metropolitan  city  homes  we 
can  hope  to  realize  its  full  force  through  the 
application  of  universal  suffrage,  as  applied  to 
municipalities,  is  a  problem  the  American 


AND   THE  STAGE. 


people  in  time  must  solve,  but  which  the 
statesmen  of  the  present  day  prefer  to  leave 
as  a  legacy  to  their  successors,  fearing  it 
might  "  hurt  the  party "  and  their  prospects 
to  agitate  it  now,  not  recognizing  it  as  indis- 
pensable to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  our 
social  relations. 

But  the  world  moves,  and  from  the  friction 
of  to-day  will  come  smoothness  to-morrow. 
From  the  doubt  and  wonder  created  by  the- 
ology the  church  will  be  rescued,  for  nations 
cannot  exist,  civilization  cannot  advance  with- 
out a  religion,  a  belief,  as  the  foundation  upon 
which  life  can  build  a  superstructure  of  hope. 
It  will  come,  based  on  knowledge  and  made 
clear  to  the  reason  of  man.  The  advance 
guard  are  already  on  the  march  ;  the  pioneers 
are  at  work  hewing  down  forests  of  dogma, 
superstition,  and  worn-out  theology.  Other 
forces  will  follow,  and  in  good  time  the  stumps 


78          THE  PRESS,  THE  PULPIT. 


and  brush  of  doubt  will  disappear,  when  a  clear 
field  will  open  to  the  view,  rich  with  a  harvest 
of  truth,  teaching  that,  as  we  are  the  founders 
and  builders  in  this  life  of  our  individual  char- 
acter, so  are  we  the  architects  of  our  homes  in 
the  life  to  come.  Then,  with  our  theological 
colleges  turned  into  temples  of  general  learn- 
ing, with  a  natural  religion,  one  creed, 
"good  will  to  all,"  radiating  from  every  pulpit, 
a  purer  tone  pervading  the  columns  of  our 
daily  journals,  our  local  politics  lifted  from 
the  gutters  and  placed  upon  the  sidewalks, 
our  municipal  governments  made  what  they 
are  supposed  to  be,  the  guardians  of  the  peo- 
ple, with  dignity  sufficient  for  self-respect  and 
of  that  quality  to  win  respect  from  others,— 
then  will  come  a  stage  true  to  its  mission, 
holding  the  mirror,  reflecting  homes  with 
goodness  prevailing,  and  wickedness  so  ob- 
r.cure  as  only  to  be  discerned  when  brought  in 


AND   THE  STAGE.  79 


contact  with  truth.  It  will  come  !  The  hope 
of  discrimination  and  the  despair  of  prejudice 
is  knowledge,  and  it  is  spreading  throughout 
the  world. 

In  saying  good-night,  permit  me  to  repeat, 
adopting  as  my  own,  a  delicate  discrimination 
uttered  by  an  actress — one  loved  by  the  stage 
and  esteemed  by  all — CHARLOTTE  CUSHMAX— 
who,  speaking  of  the  arts,  said  :  "  I  think  I 
love  and  revere  all  the  arts  equally,  only  put- 
ting my  own  just  above  the  others,  because  in 
it  I  recognize  the  union  and  culmination  of  all. 
To  me  it  seems  as  if,  when  God  conceived 
the  world,  that  was  Poetry  !  He  formed  it, 
and  that  was  Sculpture  !  He  colored  it,  and 
that  was  Painting  !  and  then,  crowning  work 
of  all,  He  peopled  it  with  living  beings,  and 
that  was  the  grand,  divine,  eternal  Drama." 


. 


